


In Another World, Demons Wait

by dalishtrash



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Desire Demons (Dragon Age), Dreams, F/M, Post-Break Up, The Fade
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-10
Updated: 2019-01-10
Packaged: 2019-10-07 15:08:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17368193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dalishtrash/pseuds/dalishtrash
Summary: After ending his relationship with the Inquisitor, Solas comes to find out Lavellan never returned from where he left her in Crestwood.Written from a prompt from @calyah via Tumblr ("Nemahris and Solas encounter and struggle against a desire demon.")





	In Another World, Demons Wait

The soft golden light of morning broke her slumber. Nemahris felt more rested than she had in months, as if a weight had been lifted from her chest and she could finally breathe again. Even before her eyes opened, she could feel the warmth of his body still intertwined with hers beneath the furs. The sweet and scent of sex clung to the bedding as she wrapped her arms around his naked waist and pulled him closer, planting soft kisses along his chiseled jaw to his earlobe. She grinned as he chuckled and opened his eyes.

“Good morning, _vhenan_ ,” Solas mumbled, voice thick with sleep as he reached across to tuck a stray curl behind her ear. His thumb brushed lovingly across her freckled cheek before pulling her into a gentle kiss. “I trust you slept well?”

“Last night felt too good to be real”, she grinned as she untangled herself from their embrace, stretching out her long limbs like a lazy cat. Rolling onto her side, she propped herself up on and bent elbow cocked an eyebrow at him teasingly, “We’re not dreaming, are we? With you, _eralath_ … it’s hard to tell.“

“Perhaps you need more practice telling the two apart...” he teased, drawing her by the chin into another kiss. His warm hand sliding over her hip, Solas pulled her against him, flesh meeting flesh once again as her mouth yielded to his.

 

* * *

 

_"Don’t do this. Dianth, sathan Solas!” He remembered how her fingers clung to the sleeve of his tunic, “Ar lath ma… ”_

_I love you too, my heart..._

_“You have a rare and marvelous spirit. In another world-”_

_“Why not this one?”_

_“I… can’t. I’m sorry.”_

He had left her there in the clearing, bare-faced and confused beneath the ever-watching harts. The truth--the truth about _himself_ \-- had hung dangerously on his lips as his fingers traced the lines of vallaslin that danced along her cheeks. But as his lips parted, he substituted one truth for another. If she knew everything, she would surely damn herself alongside him. She was _real_ and she had made everything else real. She deserved far better than he could give. The only thing that had tore his mind from the Fade and forced him awake in this world of slumbering mortals was her brilliance. Everything hurt more now she was real. Better to bear the pain of rejection now, than hazard a pain far, far worse later.

Solas reluctantly took in a long sip of his tea—bitter, deservedly so. Desperate to keep his mind out of the Fade where his own thoughts could not torture him further, he forced the hot liquid down with a wince. He was a selfish fool. He knew his efforts to discourage her affections were weak at best. He had indulged in the feelings she evoked, getting lost in the details of her curious mind and he had let himself feel for a brief moment that he could have this.

 _‘Wolves never do well without a pack,’_ he thought dolefully.

_THUNK!_

Startled from his thoughts, Solas stared at the blade of a dagger now planted into his desk, piercing through several stray parchments. He lifted his gaze to the upper railing of the Rotunda to see the Spymaster glaring at him, a second knife calmly poised between her gloved fingers. Leliana jerked her chin towards the staircase leading to her station. “A word, Solas. _Now_.”

A frown tugged at his lips, but the elf complied. With an irritated sigh, he dropped the blade to her desk among the clutter of parchment and wax stubs, before crossing his arms and meeting her stern gaze. “How may I help you, Spymaster?”

“Tell me what happened in Crestwood between yourself and the Inquisitor,” she demanded, her sweet tone cut bluntly. Her narrowed blue eyes burned fiercely at him from across the table.

“Nothing you need concern yourself with,” he assured her, biting back his ire at the interrogation, “If the Inquisitor wishes to discuss the details so be it, but you will not pry them from me.”

Leliana smiled tersely at him over the back of a leather-clad fist as she perched forward. “I would be more inclined to oblige you Solas, if the Inquisitor were here to ask. As it stands, she has not returned to Skyhold and my agents have lost sight of her in eastern Crestwood. It’s taken all my efforts to stop the Commander sending a full battalion off in search of her.”

Solas frowned. “When did your agent's last see her?”

“Close to five hours now.” Leliana looked up from the scout report in her hand. “So you understand why this is not a negotiation. You _will_ tell me what happened.”

“We… “ Solas struggled to find the words to explain. “We engaged in a private discussion, nothing that would result in her disappearance.”

Though his words were sure, his thoughts had doubts. Surely he had not caused her to flee? He could not believe she would abandon her duty, no matter what pain she suffered. Or he caused, for that matter. But as he considered the possible reasons for her disappearance, his stomach sank. Any other cause for her unknown whereabouts did not bode well. Solas turned on heel and headed for the staircase only stopping briefly to speak over his shoulder. “I will search for her personally. Tracking the magic she wields should be an easy task.”

“Solas,” Leliana called out as he neared the staircase as her eyes scanned the parchment dropped to her desk by an incoming raven, “I suggest you leave through the back entrance. Dorian has returned from his own search efforts and he has no more drapes to set on fire. I do not expect he will be pleased to see you.”

How could he have left her there alone? _Solas,_ _you selfish bastard._

 

* * *

 

Travel across Crestwood had become much less hazardous since the rift in the lake was sealed and the undead were put to rest. Solas was able to make his way back to the cave where he had last seen Nemahris with ease, making sure to avoid the patrols of Red Templars that still wandered the roads.

As he wandered into the clearing, he saw the tiny glen they had spoke in was vacant. Though his eyes could not find her, he could feel the presence of the orb’s magic nearby and a small rush of relief flooded through him. Hesitant, he called out to her. “... Nemarhis?”

The only reply was the soft babbling of the waterfall and the silent stares of the giant hart statues that watched over the glen. He sat upon a rock beside the pool, the very same she’d sat upon as he worked the spell to remove the slave markings from her skin. Closing his eyes to shut out the physical world, he took a breath to steady himself and reached out into the Fade.

The Veil was thin here, making his task effortless as he manipulated the energy that permeated the air. He conjured forth the memories around him. Though originally intending to use this magic to show her the truth--the _whole_ truth--he now used it to conjure up a more recent memory.

Solas watched as two forms materialized before him. Nemahris’ ethereal frame reached out for his as Solas watched himself move away from her. He remembered the fear of her touch in that moment as, she had begged him not to leave. How one tiny moment of contact would be the catalyst of his resolve failing as his words rippled through the Fade. _I’m sorry. I can’t._ Tears strung his eyes as he watched his faded self leave, flickering from view. He had fled. His cowardice had urged him to leave before the regret of ending their entanglement undid him. By doing so, he had spared himself the pain of seeing what he saw now.

Nemahris had watched him leave, her face creased with effort as she failed to regain her composure. She had broken down, crumpled in a heap on the damp ground as she wept, the force of her sobbing jerking at her chest as she curled her fists into her chest. Heart broken. He watched in agony, his hand moving through her form reaching for her—a force of habit he seemed unable to control, despite all he knew would come of it. As he stood there, grief ripped at him and he knew it was his own weakness that had lead to the ruin of them both. _Suledin, vhenan_. His silent pleas echoed along the currents of the Fade as the image departed and gave way to another.

The moon’s memory hung low in the sky, heralding the early hours of the morning. Nemahris still remained. Exhaustion had driven her to slumber and he frowned as watched her ethereal body curled up in bed of ferns. Without her tisane to prevent her wandering too deeply into the Fade, she risked encountering many things that would take notice of her. Such was the curse of the Dreamers, this he knew well. Far better than she.

Solas closed his eyes and the image of Nemahris faded. He knew her sleeping body must be nearby, the constant thrumming of energy from the Anchor filtered through his senses. It was, after all, his own magic. With his staff at the ready, Solas followed the faded pull of energy to a cavern deeper in the glen.

Carefully peeling back a curtain of moss, Solas found himself in a large nook, naturally formed from the erosion of the falls overhead. The wet walls leaked with water seeping through the loamy soil and the stench of mildew pervaded the air. In the center of the cavern he saw his heart, splayed out across a weathered slab, her eyes closed and head rolled back as she mumbled in her sleep. A diaphanous mist clung to her, shimmering pastel hues in the dim light cast from the cracks in the rocky ceiling. Were it not for the ravenous intent that radiated from the energy, it would have been beautiful.

“Why do you hold her, Spirit?” he spoke to the glimmering space. The mist flickered, coiling around Nemahris’ willowy frame. Solas tightened the grip on his staff. ”Taking her will not fill your hunger and possession will not gain you freedom. Leave her.”

A pleasant chuckle echoed against the stone. The mist shimmered and moved in a vaguely humanoid manner as it caressed her sleeping body, trailing itself down her bodice and over her hip. Nemahris’ back arched, her lips parting in a sweet gasp as her head rolled to face him. Her mind was lost in the Fade, but her body was still reactive. She sighed into the damp air, her cheeks flushed as she moaned his name.

Solas shifted uncomfortably on his feet as he raised the end of his staff towards the hazy figure. “I will not warn you again.”

The pastel shimmer flickered into form, casually draped over the length of Nemahris body as one of its clawed hands stroked her face. As soon as it was revealed, Solas jerked his staff forward, knocking the creature back and placing a barrier around his lover. It’s lilac eyes glinted dangerously, it’s wicked lips twisted into a smirk. “You cannot stop me, mage. She wants this. We are already bound.”

As if in agreement, Nemahris’ hand wiped at her sweaty brow, breathing his name again through smiling lips as she dreamed. Solas’ heart wrenched. Most of her life she had been cut off from her gifts as a Dreamer, taught to run and not to fight. His fingers trembled as they ached to reach out for her.

“If you are indeed bound, then I cannot drive you out forcibly.” Solas knelt beside the barrier around Nemahris, his fingers splayed as he worked on the magic. “There are others ways, Spirit.”

The spells energy expanded until the flickering shield encased the two of them. The demon's grin faltered as she watched him lay beside Nemahris, intertwining his fingers with hers as he softly chanted in the old Elvhen tongue.

Solas placed his head on the mossy stone as the spell took hold and the world darkened as he plunged into sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still unsure of whether or not this is just an AU drabble or canon for my Lavellan, but I appreciate the prompt either way!


End file.
